Somehow, the United States has managed to make its national affluence into a curse. The easy commodification of almost any urban good makes it difficult (nay, impossible?) to effectively plan anything that is not essentially geared towards making money for exclusive, elite groups. After doing research on superblock (Superilla) development in Barcelona, it is clear that, despite the fact that it is an expensive city to live in, these reforms are able to accomplish several sustainability planning goals at once. They promote less car travel for environmental sustainability and air quality. They provide a vibrant space for small businesses, which feeds the local economy. And, because much of the housing within them is social/public housing, displacement is all but impossible, which aids in economic equity for the vulnerable. No amount of naivete would convince me that nobody is getting more wealthy off of this planning intervention. But it is also clear that the benefits are broad-based and geared towards community uplift. It may not be altruistic, but the spirit and intentions behind it are arguably good.
This can rarely be said of any large-scale intervention in American cities. Often, powerful regional interests align themselves in order to block major reforms or development that could result in a more beneficial built environment for low-income urban residents. Or, those powerful groups are strategically spearheading the effort themselves, with a very clear vision of how the added value can be commodified so as to exploit affluent urbanite consumption patterns. Even promising concepts such as transit-oriented development have largely blown up in the faces of both planners and long-time residents. The reason is as sad as it is simple: planners can’t protect low-income residents from displacement once those outside of the community hear about the wonderful developments to come and the amenities that will follow. The greed of investors and developers (and, to an extent, opportunistic first-wave gentrifiers) are a systemic element that all but ensures that good development (meaning the kind that can meaningfully improve the lives of our most vulnerable residents) is infeasible (at best) or impossible (at worst).
So, looking at the superblock model from Barcelona, what can minority communities do to potentially create authentic spaces that provide recreation, relaxation, community-centered commerce, and communal connection? Is the cultivation of solidarity of vision and purpose within a community enough? Does the addition of planner expertise provide the tonic that turns lead into gold? I started this paragraph intending to write “yes!” But then I looked out the window, realized the sky was blue and that gravity is keeping me from floating away, and remembered that the United States is a plutocratic oligopoly. Of course, minority communities aren’t helpless. We have tools and resourcefulness and, perhaps most importantly, a desire for change. But the leviathan that is urban commodity-centered capitalism is big, has lots of tentacles, and has the unfortunate talent of consuming many of the best and brightest from our communities, directing energy away from community uplift-centered work and instead supplying fuel to the beast. (Note: I realize that I may be indicting my future self, as our current system makes it hard to change the world and pay the rent.) Not to belabor the analogy, but in order to finally share in the wealth that is being created around us (and in many cases by us), we as planners and communities of color are going to have to unify and mobilize an armada that can’t be suppressed. It may not be possible to slay this highly adaptive behemoth, but we can fight it. But we’re going to need sharper harpoons.
Fear of a Black Planner 